How to Turn A Good Girl Bad:
Step Two: You Make Her Blush
"HEY HAILEY!!! HURRY THE HELL UP!!!" Rebecca's words echoed around the house ringing in my ears. I could hear her from my room. And I'll tell you now this house is huge! Then again so is her gob. Not that I'd ever say that to her. Annoyed I slammed my hairbrush on the dresser a little harder than what should have been necessary.
She had spent the whole morning in the bathroom and I hadn't even got enough time to brush my hair after a short, and cold (thanks to her using all the hot water), shower. Slinging my hair untidily in a pony tail I risked a glance in the mirror. Annoyingly my hair still had a few strands falling out and around my face, however now that my hair was up, you could see my face. That however is not necessarily a good thing, despite what my mother says. I mean she was my mother; she couldn't just come out and tell me I wasn't pretty. No I had the fun of noticing the off bits all by myself. Like how my hair wasn't brunette or blonde, but a mix of the two. Or how my green eyes were the same colour of moss, (needless to say it wasn't the most attracting colour of them all) and they were just that bit too wide, giving the looks of an innocent child. I would list a whole lot more complaints I had about myself, if I had the time, right now my sister was about to burst a lung yelling at me.
"HAILEY! I'VE GOT CHEER PRACTICE TO GO TO BEFORE SCHOOL!" Her voice was loud enough to bring about the rise of all the dead in a hundred miles radius. Sighing I slung my overused brown shoulder bag over my head, before racing down the stairs. Wow two weeks and already on the cheerleading squad, man this girl works fast. It didn't surprise me though. Unlike me, Rebecca was the one every single girl in the school would kill to look like. She had the looks of a model, her beach blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, dazzling smile, and amazing figure, had boys dropping to the ground, begging to be with her. Shame about the personality. That could use a little work. She was possibly the meanest girl in school. And I only say possibly because I don't know most the people in school yet. She was defiantly the meanest at our old schools. I didn't see why this one would be any different.
"FINALLY!" My sister burst, flipping a long piece of blonde hair of her shoulder. She scowled at me and looked disapprovingly at what I was wearing. Which just so happened to be the school uniform! For Christ sakes, I swear, just because I'm not wearing it to be revealing and sluttish, like every other girl with no self respect did. She narrowed her eyes, turning her nose up in the air slightly as if she had caught a bad smell. "Doesn't even try!" She muttered to herself, sounding annoyed.
'Hmm maybe it's because I don't have the time!' I thought sarcastically inside my head, not daring to say it aloud though, it would only piss her off further. Instead I pretended that I didn't hear anything, like I had oh so painfully obviously not meant to. I brushed past her walking to the door, my keys jingling as I smoothly grabbed them off the table, twirling them around my tall index finger, whistling a high note to myself.
Rebecca didn't say anything as I drove down the street. Instead she stared blankly at the trees we passed, so fast that they looked like huge green and brown blobs. Unfortunately, it being my sister meant the quietness didn't last long. Not long at all. Soon her phone started belting out the lyrics to Justin Beiber's Baby. I cringed slightly at her choice in song. Just how much more repetitive could it get? I mean it was great the first time I heard it, however it was like a joke, if you hear it too many times it kills it completely. I'm talking about serious murdering going on here; you know the latex gloves and black bin bag, partnered with a huge six foot hole in the middle of nowhere, kind of killing.
While this ran through my mind, Rebecca was talking harshly on her phone. "Look I said I'll be there, my sister made me late okay?" She snapped. I gripped harder on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning paper white, and my lips thinning in to a pencil straight line.